


The Forgotten Queen: The Fall of Troy

by Undomiel5



Category: The Iliad - Homer, Troy (2004)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undomiel5/pseuds/Undomiel5
Summary: I am Alkippe, daughter of Peleus, blessed by the war god Ares. I am Queen of Phthia, now that Peleus sleeps beneath the green turf. I am the Queen of the Myrmidons.I will be the Forgotten Queen.ABANDONED.





	1. Prologue

History shall always remember the name of Achilles, son of Peleus, the lion of Phthia and the lord of the Myrmidons. Death came for him at Troy just as the oracles said would happen. So shall history remember Patroclus, son of Menoetius, who fell on Troy’s shores leading the Myrmidons in Achilles’ place. Eternal honor and glory are theirs. Their names will never be forgotten.

The Myrmidons sailed home after that terrible war with a new leader, but without glorious Achilles they would eventually fade into legends of a past, heroic age.

My name shall not be remembered throughout the ages like Achilles, like Patroclus, like Odysseus. Yet, through the memory of the Sack of Troy, through the memory of Achilles and Patroclus, the echo of my own glory will survive.

I am Alkippe, daughter of Peleus, blessed by the war god Ares. I am Queen of Phthia, now that Peleus sleeps beneath the green turf. I am the Queen of the Myrmidons. I will be the Forgotten Queen.

History will not remember me, so let me tell my story this once to you, listener.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All I own are a handful of Original Characters and some parts of the plot. Any recognizable characters belong to Homer and Troy (2004). The main plot follows the storyline of the movie and does not belong to me either. Flashbacks, however, to the days before the Trojan War will belong to me.


	2. Thessaly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All I own are a handful of Original Characters and some parts of the plot. Any recognizable characters belong to Homer and Troy (2004). The main plot follows the storyline of the movie and does not belong to me either. Flashbacks, however, to the days before the Trojan War will belong to me.

Thessaly, Greece  
1196 B.C.

In a deep valley somewhere in Thessaly, two armies marched toward one another. The sun glinted off the bronze armor, the swords, and the spear points of the Greek army. They marched forward in good order with their spears at the ready. A handful of horseman and several chariots traveled in front of the ranks.

On the other side of the valley and coming closer was the Thessalian army. Their armor and weapons bore obvious dings and depressions, and some were still stained with blood after the disastrous battle (for the Thessalians) of the previous day. They moved less smoothly, and uneasiness and wariness rippled through their ranks as they marched ever closer to the Greek army.

As the two armies stopped, still some distance apart, the dust cloud started to settle. Two chariots, one from each army, rode out into the intervening space between the armies, as Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, and Triopas, king of Thessaly, came to parley.

Back at the Greek lines, about a stone's throw away aside from where Agamemnon's chariot had been, stood a large group of soldiers that stood out from all the rest. These soldiers stood in a shallow half circle; the rest of the Greek line curved around behind them with a small space left between the two lines of men. These soldiers did not look like all the rest. Their spears were longer. Their shields were round, instead of the oblong shields that the main portion of the Greek army carried. The most striking fact about them was that their armor was entirely black. Every portion was black: their shields, their helmets, their breastplates, their greaves, and their arm guards. These were the Myrmidons from Pythia who followed Achilles, son of Peleus, the most fearsome warrior of all of Greece.

Inside the shallow curve of the Myrmidons, who stand about 90 strong, were two other figures, also fully armored. One was a man, tall and broad shouldered, with shaggy black hair and a short scruff of beard. His hair was pushed back from his face by a piece of black cloth that was wrapped around his head. He carried his shield on one arm and held his helmet underneath the other. The other figure was tall but lean with armor that was not black but the color of burnished gold. Golden tufts of hair protruded from underneath a golden helmet. When the figure drew off the helmet, the figure was shown to be a woman. A woman! Not Achilles who also wore golden armor and usually led the Myrmidons. She was tall but not quite as tall as the Myrmidon captain who stood beside her. Her skin was bronzed darkly by long hours spent in the hot sun. Her eyes were blue, and her hair was mainly golden and streaked with red.

Together the Myrmidon captain and the woman watched as the Agamemnon and Triopas climbed from their chariots and began to speak. The two Myrmidons were too far away to hear the word that were spoken but watched as Triopas' face changed from weary and wary to hopeful.

Then, suddenly, the shout of the Thessalian king broke the stillness of the morning, "Boagrius!"

As soon as Triopas fell silent, a continuing shout and cheer was raised by his army, as a giant, badly scarred and nearly seven feet tall, muscled his way through the ranks until he emerged in front of the Thessalian lines.

"So Agamemnon wants to settle this conflict in the old manner," the woman said softly to her companion.

"It seems so, my lady." The Myrmidon captain replied.

"Triopas should have made a better choice," she scoffed, eyeing the Thessalian 'champion' with disgust, "I could defeat that giant. He is too massive to move quickly, and with so little armor he will be badly exposed."

"It is as you say," The other replied.

"Let us see who Agamemnon calls as his champion, Achilles or myself." The lady wondered aloud with a smirk. "I hope he calls for Achilles." Achilles was noticeably absent from the ranks of the Myrmidons.

As soon as the shouting from the Thessalian ranks died down, Agamemnon bellowed, "Achilles!" The Greek troops were noticeably silent, as Achilles failed to appear. The Thessalian troops began to laugh.

A rider who had been waiting beside another chariot galloped over to the Myrmidons.

"Lady Alkippe, where is your brother?" He asked.

The lady looked up at him with eyes full of scorn, taking great delight in the discomfiture that Agamemnon must have been feeling when his chosen champion failed to appear.

"Not here, obviously, soldier. Would your king like me to fight in my brother's place?" Alkippe was usually the one of the two siblings less inclined to anger Agamemnon, but some days she had enough of Agamemnon's behavior and took great delight in infuriating the so called High King of the Greeks.

The rider ground his teeth and turned his horse and galloped first to another rider who after an exchange of words rode off at a gallop toward the Greek camp and then second to Agamemnon. What the rider said to Agamemnon was not heard by the Myrmidons, but Agamemnon's bellowed reply was, _"Where is he?!"_

Alkippe smiled slightly and rested her shield on the ground. Eudorus, the captain who stood beside her, seemed a little more uneasy. "Perhaps we should have awakened Achilles before we marched. Agamemnon is furious."

Alkippe glanced up at her companion for a second. "Would you have wanted to awaken Achilles after the sounds we heard from his tent last night? I would not have. There is no honor and glory to be gained in fighting our own countrymen for a king such as Agamemnon. What needs to be done today can easily be done without my brother present. Agamemnon should have called for me, instead of angering my brother by rousing him from his drunken slumber."

Eudorus did not respond.

Nearly half-an-hour passed in uneasy silence. The troops on both sides were waiting to see if the offer of a battle between the two champions would collapse and all out fighting would begin. Only the Myrmidons seemed unbothered by the delay. Eventually Triopas and Agamemnon returned to their own lines to wait. Agamemnon passed the time fuming and speaking with his officers, including wise, old Nestor.

Eventually, when the tension seemed so thick it could be cut with a knife, the Greek lines began to cheer as Achilles appeared and made his way on horseback through the Greek lines. The great warrior looked across the field at the champion awaiting him and then slipped from the back of the black stallion he rode.

Achilles made his way forward past the Greek officers and toward Boagrius. As he did so, Agamemnon opened his mouth, _"Perhaps we should have our war tomorrow, when you're better rested?"_

When Achilles kept on walking and gave no reply, Agamemnon spoke again, words that nearly condemned the two sides to another all-out fight, _"I should have you whipped for your impudence."_

There was a long pause, and then Achilles turned to look to Agamemnon. _"Perhaps you should fight him."_ At the same time, the Myrmidons murmured among themselves and sent angry looks toward Agamemnon and grasped their sword hilts, angry at the insult and threat to their leader. At a sharp word from Alkippe, they quieted.

Achilles turned fully and began to walk back toward the Greek lines. Nestor, wanting to put a stop to the situation before it got any worse, called his name twice. Achilles finally stopped, and the two conferred together in quiet voices. Whatever Nestor said was successful, and Achilles turned back around and, pulling his spear from the holder that attached it to his shield, started to walk toward Boagrius. As Achilles passed Agamemnon, he slammed his spear into the dusty ground and said with disgust, _"Imagine a king who fights his own battles. Wouldn't that be a sight?"_

The fight between Boagrius and Achilles was over as quickly as Alkippe had expected. Boagrius was the type of fighter, big and imposing, that most would shudder to face. Achilles was not most men, though, and was much too fast for the lumbering Thessalian. Without a good set of armor, Boagrius was dangerously exposed, and with one quick sword thrust through the shoulder he fell face down into the dust of the field with a crash. The Thessalian was dead. The fight had lasted less than a minute.

Achilles did not look back as his opponent fell but continued on until he was standing in front of the Thessalian lines. His bellow could be heard across the whole battlefield, _"Is there no one else?"_

Alkippe watched as the defeated king of Thessaly approached her brother. For a moment the two spoke, and then Achilles turned and headed back toward the Greek lines at an unhurried pace.

Alkippe smiled, relieved that her brother was unharmed and that no more men on either side needed to die. She despised Agamemnon's quest for kingship of all Greece which pitted Greek army against Greek army. "Lead the men back to camp, Eudorus," she said, "I will wait for my brother."

"Yes, my lady," Eudorus replied.

"Back to camp," he called to the Myrmidons. They lifted their shields from their resting places on the ground and pulled their spears from the dust. The army behind them parted, making a wide path for the others to pass through. The Myrmidons and their commanders were widely respected for the prowess in battle but were also greatly feared for the same reason. No one wanted to anger any of the Myrmidons or get in their way.

Soon Alkippe stood alone on the battlefield in front the other Greek troops still a respectful distance behind her. The orders had not been given for the whole army to return to camp. The Myrmidons followed their own orders, not Agamemnon's. Achilles stopped to pick up his shield which he had thrown away when it had been pierced by Boagrius' first spear. At the same time, Triopas' scepter was carried across the field and given to a still furious Agamemnon.

Finally, the order came for the Greeks, "Back to camp!"

It was several more minutes before Achilles reached the place where Alkippe had been standing, his slow and unhurried pace serving to rub in his victory and anger Agamemnon, who was watching the two siblings with eyes full of fury.

"Enjoying yourself, brother?" Alkippe asked.

Achilles' smirk was his only reply while they were still possibly in earshot of Agamemnon. Achilles slung his shield across his back and let it hang by its thick leather strap which was wrapped around one hand. His other arm he draped across his sister's shoulders as they walked side by side in the wake of the Greek army back toward camp a diaulos away.

Once they were out of earshot of Agamemnon, Achilles replied to his sister's earlier question, "Very much!"

Used to her brother's ways, Alkippe smiled.

When they had walked a little further, Achilles said, "You should have woken me when the call came to assemble."

Alkippe's face twisted with disgust, and she shook her head, setting her red-gold braids dancing around her face. "If you had slept alone and had not been drinking well into the night, I would have, brother. But the last time I tried to wake you after a night like last night I ended up lying on my back on the floor of your chambers with your knife at my throat. There are somethings I do not want to see: you with your women is one of them. Nor do I want to risk getting my throat cut."

Achilles gave a snort in amusement or annoyance (Alkippe wasn't sure) and let the conversation drop, though the arm around his sister's shoulders tightened at the remembrance of that near fatal accident years earlier.

The Myrmidons were nearly settled in their portion of the Greek camp by the time Achilles and Alkippe returned. A few men were tending the fires or checking on the wounded, but mostly the camp was quiet. Eudorus sat waiting for them on the sand in front of Achilles' large tent. He rose as his commanders approached.

"My lord," he said with a respectful nod as well to Alkippe, "What are your orders?"

"Start gathering the supplies so that we can leave in the morning. Check on the wounded, also, and make sure there are enough horses to carry our spoils and bear the wounded that are not strong enough to walk."

Eudorus bowed first to Achilles and then to Alkippe before departing to carry out his orders. Alkippe left her brother standing before his tent and departed to another large tent a stone's throw away which she shared with Eudorus, her fellow captain. Once it had been awkward to share a tent with a man to whom she was not married, now it was just common practice. Achilles had instituted the practice when Alkippe had first joined the Myrmidons in battle as a protection against abuse by drunken soldiers among the other Greek troops, as the Myrmidons knew what would happen if they ever touched Alkippe. Now Eudorus and Alkippe shared a tent so that they could converse on strategies or other matters relating to the Myrmidons late into the night without disturbing the other men. Most would deem their practice scandalous, but to Alkippe it was another factor that made her unique among Greek women. She was blessed by Ares, the god of War; she did not do as other women did. That much she had proved already in her thirty odd years of life.

Ducking inside, she began to strip off her armor piece by piece, moving quickly to make sure she was fully changed before Eudorus' return. Neither wanted an awkward repeat of one returning to find the other in the midst of changing. She pulled off the armor that covered her upper body, exposing the dark knee-length chiton stained with dust and sweat that she wore underneath, and placed the armor on top of a nearby chest to be cleaned. She then untied the leather straps that bound her greaves and arm guards to her body and put them in the same place.

After a quick look toward the leather hangings that constituted the tent door, Alkippe quickly stripped off her dirty chiton, grabbed a nearly clean rag, and wiped down her body with water from a basin a servant had refilled in her absence. When she deemed herself satisfactorily clean, she pulled out a longer black chiton that fell half-way between her knees and ankles and bound it around her body.

With a hasty grab at a dagger which she inserted into a leather sheath on her belt, Alkippe left her tent. The bright glare of the sun after the relative darkness of the tent forced her to pause for a moment to squint and let her eyes adjust. When she could see again, she hurried on. There was much to be done before the Myrmidons could depart for home the next day, and, the daughter of the king of Phthia though she was, Alkippe had no attention of leaving Eudorus to do all the work.

Her first stop was the open air platform where the wounded lay under the shade of a broad canopy. The freely moving air served to lessen but not remove the dreadful smell of blood, sweat, fear, burned flesh, and festering wounds. Ten Myrmidons who had been injured in the previous day's battle lay there resting under the watchful eyes of a healer. They began to rouse at the sound of their lady's footsteps.

"How went the battle?" "Did we conquer?" "Is the war over yet?" "Did Lord Achilles fight?" These questions and many others were raised by the injured Myrmidons who, unhappy with their forced confinement, wanted to know the outcome of the day's battle and the fate of their comrades.

The Myrmidons were a tight-knit group, loyal to each other and to their leaders. The inability to fight rankled them. Only Achilles' explicit orders on the previous night had kept the injured that could still walk from joining with their uninjured companions in the battle which would have taken place today if Agamemnon had not chosen to end the war in a different manner.

Alkippe smiled to herself and wove her way among the cots until she reached the side of Lycidas, the Myrmidon with the most serious wound. Uncaring of the dust that would stain her clothing, she took a seat on the ground between the cots. She gave him a nod of greeting, one warrior to another, and then she began to spin the tale of the day's events, pitching her voice at a level that would not carry far beyond the boundaries of the tent.

"Yes, we won today, Myrmidons. Thessaly now belongs to Agamemnon." A low groan came from her men at the mention of the hated king's name. "And it is all due to our Lord Achilles." A weak cheer came from the men at these words. "Unwilling for more bloodshed and great loss of life that would lose more Thessalian men that could serve him, Agamemnon chose to settle the war in the old manner: a Greek champion against a Thessalian champion. Triopas was pleased at this. I could see his face grow more encouraged when Agamemnon suggested this. Triopas called for his champion: a great hulking man named Boagrius but one who was so foolish as not to wear proper armor." Alkippe's voice was scornful as she said these last words. "Agamemnon called for Achilles, but Achilles was not with the army. By the time a man was sent to camp to fetch Achilles and Achilles arrived, Agamemnon was furious. He threatened and insulted our lord with his words. Offended by Agamemnon's words, Achilles turned back and would not have fought if wise Nestor had not convinced him to continue. The battle was fast. Boagrius was no match for god-like Achilles. With one thrust of his sword through Boagrius' unprotected shoulder down into his chest, Achilles brought the battle to a close. The Thessalians lost all for the want of a good champion, though it would take much for Achilles to be defeated. The war is over now. Achilles has given orders that we will leave in the morning."

The Myrmidons all thanked her for bringing them news of the battle. Alkippe stayed with them for a while longer, speaking with each man in his turn. The shadows had lengthened greatly, and the sky was stained with colors by the time Alkippe turned to Aristobulus, the healer, and beckoned to him. Eudorus had passed by the healer's pavilion while Alkippe was telling her long tale but had already departed, knowing that the lady would gain the needed information about the wounded and would convey that information to him later.

After Aristobulus' servant had hurried over to the pavilion to watch over the injured, the healer made his way through the cots to the edge of the pavilion. The two began to a walk a circuit around the pavilion as they talked.

"How are the men?" She asked, "Lord Achilles has ordered that preparations be started to leave tomorrow, and thus Eudorus and I need to know the condition of the wounded: who can walk, who can ride, who must be carried."

Aristobulus was quiet for a few moments as he contemplated his answer. Finally he said, "As long as Lord Achilles chooses a reasonable pace, I believe that four of the ten should be able to walk. Five others will need to ride. Lycidas, I think, will need a litter; he is weak and does not have the strength to sit a horse even with aid."

"Should they all live?" Alkippe asked.

"If the Fates are kind, they will."

"I thank you, healer, for your aid. You may return to your charges."

Aristobulus gave a half bow and returned to take the place of his assistant. Alkippe made her way back through the Myrmidon camp toward her tent, guessing that, since the sun was starting to set, Eudorus would have returned to the tent the two shared.

As expected, Eudorus was sitting eating in their tent by a low fire as Alkippe pushed aside the leather hangings and entered. He motioned to a small bowl sitting in some extra warm coals near the edge of the fire. "The cook brought food for us."

She sat down across from Eudorus and picked up bowl up: warm lentil stew and a hunk of dry bread. Filling, though not the most appetizing. Once the two had finished their food and had drunk a cup of watered wine each to wash their meals down, Eudorus asked, "What news is there from Aristobulus?"

"All the injured should live, he says, if the Fates are kind. We will need five horses and one litter. The rest can walk."

"A litter?"

"For Lycidas."

Eudorus nodded in understanding. He refilled his cup from a skin of water sitting within arm's reach and then continued, "The packing of the supplies is going quickly. All the Myrmidons want to be gone from this place. We should be ready to depart by the time there is enough light to see."

"Good," Alkippe responded with a tired sigh, "I am ready to return to Phthia. I am weary of being under Agamemnon's thumb and of this constant campaigning. Perhaps with the conquest of Thessaly finished, we will have some peace for a time. There is work that needs to be done in Phthia."

There was silence in the tent for a little while as each thought about the work left to be done before they could return home and about the work in Phthia that needed to be done.

After a little while, Eudorus said, "You should lay down, my lady. Morning will come early, and I suspect we will be in for some long marches. Your brother is in a hurry to be home and away from the king." The disgust easily apparent in the last word identified what king Eudorus was talking about.

"I think I will. Wake me when the last watch begins."

"Of course, lady," Eudorus replied. He rose and moved toward the door of the tent. "I have work still that I must attend to, but Dilios will be nearby if you require anything."

Alkippe moved across to her pallet on the right side of the tent. She adjusted the furs and blankets that made up her pallet and then lay down, leaving her sword within easy reach. The flickering flames lulled her towards sleep, and soon her eyes closed and her breathing evened out, as Hypnos cast his blanket of sleep across her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A diaulos is a Greek unit of measurement which equals approximately 2.2 km/1.36 miles.
> 
> Quotes in italics are from the movie itself. I am indebted to clips from the movie and an online script for help in describing the battlefield, the armies, and other elements.


	3. Phthia – The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All I own are a handful of Original Characters and some parts of the plot. Any recognizable characters belong to Homer and Troy (2004). The main plot follows the storyline of the movie and does not belong to me either. Flashbacks, however, to the days before the Trojan War will belong to me.

The Myrmidons, restrained to a slower pace by the booty they had captured during the war in Thessaly and by the wounded they bore with them, made the 55 diaulos[1] journey home in just over eight long days. The warriors gave a shout as, just after high noon on the ninth day, they came over the crest of the final hill and saw Larissa, the capital of Phthia, stretched out before them along the coast of the Aegean Sea. Some of the Myrmidons quickened their pace as they make their way down the hillside, but Alkippe, leading the horse of Antikles, a Myrmidon with a badly injured arm, kept her pace slow and steady, not willing to risk a fall on the slightly sandy soil.

Just minutes later a rising shout drifted across the land as the guards on the city walls caught sight of the returning Myrmidons. Alkippe glanced across her city up toward the citadel and her father’s palace. She wondered whether her younger cousin was watching from the palace’s walls beyond the reach of her sight or whether he was still in bed, sleeping the morning away as the young without pressing responsibilities were want sometimes to do. A small smile flitted quickly across her face. She was not given over much to sentimentality, but it was good to be home. All the Myrmidons, especially Achilles and Alkippe, were tired of fighting for Agamemnon in his self-serving wars that dragged soldiers away from the lands that needed their attention more.

A groan from Antikles tore Alkippe’s attention away from her home. She took a quick look back. The injured Myrmidon was deathly pale even beneath his sun-bronzed skin and was listing heavily to one side. The bandages wrapped thickly around his wounded arm were stained brightly with fresh blood: his wound had reopened. Alkippe frowned and slowed her pace even further till she was walking beside the horse’s withers. The stallion, her personal war-horse, was well-behaved and did not really need her to lead him.

“Lean on my shoulder, soldier,” Alkippe ordered, “it will not be long until we reach the city, and then you will be able to rest and be tended by a healer.”

“My thanks, lady,” replied the soldier, his voice weak. As bent over as he was it was not hard for him to use his lady’s shoulder as a prop as she had ordered.

Another hour’s walk brought the rear guard of the Myrmidon formation to the gates of Larissa. The cheers of their people greeted their triumphant return. Most of the Myrmidons scattered to their homes in the lower town as soon as they passed through the gates. The rest of the Myrmidons, who guarded the citadel, along with the wounded continued on further into the city.

The wounded were entrusted to the care of the healer whose halls were located just inside the gates of the citadel. Achilles dismissed the remaining Myrmidons, except for Eudorus and Phoenix, who served as the two principle commanders of the Myrmidons under Achilles and Alkippe, and the soldiers leading the pack animals bearing the captured spoils meant for the palace.

On the stone portico outside the great carven doors that lead into the palace, the whole royal family was waiting as Alkippe and Achilles walked up the stone steps that lead to the palace. Peleus stood leaning on a wooden staff, his white hair shining in the sun, the picture of the wise, old ruler. Two steps behind him, on his right hand, stood Thetis. To Alkippe, it seemed that her mother’s hair was slightly more touched with grey than it has been over a month earlier, when the Myrmidons had left to fight yet another war for Agamemnon. Behind them, under the shadow of the portico roof, stood Patroclus, the young 17-year old cousin of Alkippe and Achilles. Alkippe smiled softly when she saw him: from the look on his face, only sheer force of will was keeping him flying down the steps to greet his cousin as if he wore Hermes’ winged shoes, instead of his regular sandals.

_Not that he would appreciate me calling him young_ , she thought, _yet I am fourteen summers the elder. He will always seem young to me_.

Peleus’ voice broke into her thoughts as her father greeted her brother. She stepped up beside her brother and bowed, “Father.”

“Welcome home, daughter,” said Peleus, greeting his younger child with a curt nod. The relationship between father and daughter was cool at best. Alkippe was the daughter he had never expected to have. Then, instead of growing up to into a woman useful for marriage alliances with other Greek kings, she had grown up into a warrior, second only to her brother among the Myrmidons, breaking all the social norms of Greece at that time. Moreover, she had refused every suitor who had worked up the nerve to try to win her hand, preferring to die a maid rather than marry a suitor who only wanted her for her body or for the alliances that marriage to her would bring.

As her father’s attention returned to her brother, Alkippe stepped away and greeted her mother much more warmly with a shallow bow and a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Eschewing formality, the queen pulled her daughter to her, embraced her, and then held her daughter at arm’s length to look at her. “You look well, my child,” said the elderly queen, “Did you escape injury on this campaign?”

“Yes, mother,” replied Alkippe, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb her father’s conversation, “Ares was pleased with my gifts and blessed my sword, though not all our troops were so blessed.”

The queen’s brow furrowed at this news. “How many were lost?”

“Three dead. Ten wounded.”

“Against the Thessalians it could have been much worse. Now, if the gods be good, we will have peace,” said the queen.

“If the gods be good,” echoed Alkippe.

“Go and greet your cousin,” said the queen after a moment’s silence, “before his patience runs out.”

_Which would be soon_ , thought Alkippe fondly, knowing her cousin’s habits well, _I’m surprised he has managed to restrain himself this long_.

Taking the queen’s words as tacit permission, Patroclus bounded forward, a smile lighting up his face. He seemed so young to Alkippe with his beaming smile and golden hair. He had come to Larissa when he was seven, after his parents drowned in a shipwreck. A naturally talented fighter, he had learned well from the tutelage of the Myrmidons and of his older cousins but understood little of the really cost and burdens of wall, as he had never been on campaign.

“Welcome home, cousin!” Patroclus said, sweeping his older but slightly shorter cousin into a hug.

“It’s good to be home,” Alkippe responded, pounding him on the back. After a moment, she pulled back enough to look her cousin over, “Have you been keeping up with your training in our absence?”

“Of course!!” Patroclus replied, looking slightly offended that she even had to ask, “I’ve been training with the palace guards and practicing on my own.”

Alkippe smiled, “You must train with me tomorrow then, and we will test how far your skills have improved.”

Patroclus beamed. Even after living in Larissa for ten years, he still idolized both of his cousins and relished any and all chances to train with them.

Alkippe patted his shoulder and then, turning back towards the steps, beckoned to Phoenix and to one of the male servants in the yard.

To Phoenix, she said, “Leave my gifts for Ares’ Temple in the courtyard with a soldier or slave to watch over them. I will return soon.”

“Of course, my lady,” said Phoenix, giving a low bow. He turned away to do as Alkippe instructed.

To the servant, she said, “Go to the herdsmen. I need two of their best bulls for me to take up to Ares’ Temple before the sun sets. Tell him to come up tomorrow morning to the palace for his payment.”

“As you command, my lady,” said the servant, giving a lower bow than Phoenix had. The servant hurried off towards the gates that lead to the lower city to find the herdsmen.

With her instructions given, Alkippe left the portico and made her way further into the palace. Winding her way through the stone halls, she eventually came to her own large chambers set towards the back of the palace near the private training yards used by the royal family and the high ranking officers of the Myrmidons.

As she entered her chambers for the first time in over a month, Alkippe gave a sigh, half of relief and half of appreciation, when she smelled the scent of bath oils coming from her bathing room attached to her sleeping chambers. Xanthe, her personal slave, appeared in the door of the bathing room, hearing the creek of the chamber door opening then shutting.

“Welcome home, mistress. Your bath will be ready in just a few minutes,” Xanthe said in slightly accented Greek. She had served Alkippe for nearly ten years and knew her mistress’ habits well. As long as she was not injured badly enough to impede her mobility, Alkippe, after greeting her family, would always bathe immediately before making her way to Ares’ Temple to offer gifts in thanks for the god’s aid and her safe return. Thus, when Xanthe had heard from another slave that the Myrmidons had been sighted, she had moved to start preparing for her mistress’ return.

“Very good, Xanthe, thank you” replied Alkippe, starting to untie the straps that held her armor in place.

Piece by piece Alkippe removed her sweat-stained armor and hung them on the wooden, human-shaped stand next to her clothes-chest. She propped her massive shield against the wall and leaned her sword and spear against two carved rests lower on the wall, designed to keep them from falling over.

As she worked, she called to her slave in the next room, “Did anyone make trouble for you while I was absent?”

“No, mistress,” Xanthe replied over the sound of her bustling about. “The other slaves know well the consequences of touching me, and there have been no visiting nobles in your absence.” Xanthe was a pretty darker-skinned slave who had only seen twenty-two or twenty-three summers. In the ten or so years that she had been in Larissa, Xanthe had drawn more than few admiring and lustful glances from other slaves and from visiting nobles who were intrigued by her exotic looks. But after finding Xanthe once with a torn dress and a bruised cheek, Alkippe thereafter had threatened the slaves and the soldiers that she found looking at her slave in such ways with dire consequences if they ever touched her and had kept her slave away from visitors. Thus, for years Xanthe had lived a peaceful life, for a slave in those days, with little risk of molestation from men with wandering hands and lustful thoughts, yet Alkippe still asked her the same question after each and every absence.

A minute later, Xanthe called from the other room, “Your bath is ready, mistress.”

Alkippe made her way into the other room and after shedding her chiton slid into the cool water with a grateful sigh. With Xanthe’s help Alkippe quickly washed and then anointed her body with fragrant oils. She dressed herself in an ankle-length black chiton and then sat down at a table on which stood a mirror of polished bronze, an expensive commodity in those days.

“How do you wish me to do your hair?”

“The usual.”

Xanthe began to comb out Alkippe’s golden-red hair. When not braided and pinned up, her hair fell slightly below her shoulder-blades. Xanthe worked in silence, letting her mistress enjoy the silence that she had lacked while on campaign. She dried Alkippe’s hair, carefully braided it, then pinned it to the top of her head in a long coil. When she had finished, Alkippe admired her work quickly in the mirror.

“Your fingers are as nimble as usual, Xanthe!” said Alkippe, “I must leave for Ares’ Temple now, but I will return before dusk.”

“Do you wish me to tend to your armor?” Xanthe asked as Alkippe rose from her chair.

“No, I will tend to it myself when I return,” replied Alkippe, “All you need to do is take my clothes down to the washer women once my things are unpacked and brought up.”

Leaving her chambers, Alkippe returned to the courtyard when she had left only an hour or so ago. The courtyard was much more crowded now with slaves, soldiers, and animals unpacking the spoils of the returning Myrmidons. Yet, seeing her, all immediately made way. Just inside the gates, a young slave boy stood holding the lead ropes for two massive bulls. A few feet away, leaning against the stone wall that ran all the way around the citadel, stood Phoenix. At his feet rested a hide bag, presumably holding the armor she had claimed for her patron’s temple.

Alkippe slowed as she approached and arched an eyebrow at her waiting lieutenant, “When I told you to leave a soldier or slave to guard my gifts for the Temple, I did not intend for you yourself to do the guarding.”

“I have nowhere else to be, my lady,” said the greying soldier, “Moreover, warrior, though you are, it would not be wise for you to travel to the Temple without a guard.” Phoenix was the son of Amyntor, who ruled in Ormenio far, far to the north. After sleeping with his father’s mistress decades earlier, Phoenix had been cursed by his father and then exiled from his homeland. Traveling south, he had eventually come to Phthia and to Peleus’ court. Phoenix, an exiled prince without standing or home, had sworn himself to Peleus’ service and had served with the Myrmidons for as long as Alkippe could remember.

Alkippe nodded, “Then let us depart. There are miles to go before we can rest, and daylight will not last forever.”[2]

The Temple to Ares[3] stood upon a rocky hilltop about four-and-a-half diaulos[4] from the city walls. The walk to the temple from the city took just under two hours. The Temple was large, measuring 55 feet wide and 130 feet long at its outer edges: Alkippe had spared no expense in financing its construction. An old, dour priest, robed in white, stood awaiting them, since, with the rattling of the armor and the lowing of the bulls, their approach could be heard for quite a distance.

“I see you have returned safely once again, princess,” he said.

“Ares blessed my sword and protected me, as he has done for years,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at the priest’s very direct manner of speech, “I have brought gifts for him in thanks: the two finest bulls to be found in the city and a complete set of armor taken as spoils from a dead Thessalian.”

With a shouted command the priest summoned two young acolytes from inside the temple. The two boys took the sack with the armor from Phoenix and the lead-ropes for the bulls from the serving boy.

“Will you stay for a time, princess?” The priest asked after a moment.

“No,” Alkippe replied, “the hour grows late, and I must return to Larissa before the sun sets. I will return soon to pay my respects at the altar.”

“Safe journey,” the priest said in farewell before disappearing back into the temple.

The journey back to Larissa took another two hours. The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Alkippe walked through the gates of the citadel alone, having already dismissed Phoenix and the servant. Patroclus was standing waiting on the step of the palace.

“Cousin?” Alkippe was surprised to seeing him waiting for her.

“Aunt Thetis wishes for you to dine with her this evening.”

“Of course, I will. What about my brother?”

“He will dine with the king and several of his advisors to tell of the war in Thessaly and the continuing tensions with Agamemnon,” Patroclus replied apologetically.

Alkippe frowned and ground her teeth with annoyance at her father’s blatant snub of her role with the Myrmidons. She took a deep breath and composed herself. “Let my wash the dust from my feet and then I will join Mother. … Will you eat with us, Patroclus?”

“Aunt Thetis already asked me to.”

“Good,” Alkippe gave a small smile.

Together, the two entered the palace: Patroclus heading toward the queen’s chambers to inform Thetis of her daughter’s answer, Alkippe heading towards her own chambers to wash up.

_In some ways_ , Alkippe thought to herself, _it is good to be home. I did not miss having to deal with Father. But I missed Mother and Patroclus. I missed the peace and quiet of Larissa. No matter the skill and protection Ares gives me, no matter the wars I fight in across Greece, Larissa shall always be my home._

Little did Alkippe know that night that she would have only weeks left to enjoy her quiet life with her family in Larissa before the rash actions of a foreign prince would bring disaster upon Greece and would change the fate of her family forever.

* * *

[1] A diaulos is a Greek unit of measurement which equals approximately 2.2 km or 1.36 miles.

[2] “Miles to go before we can rest” is almost a direct quote from Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” with only a slight change to fix the context of Alkippe’s statement.

[3] The description of this temple is modeled on the description of the Temple of Concordia in Sicily.

[4] A diaulos is a Greek unit of measurement which equals approximately 2.2 km or 1.36 miles.


End file.
